


Last Call

by Hallianna



Series: Of Other Than Bardic Beginnings [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cock Worship, Dirty Talk, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Shameless Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: Geralt's first night as the new bouncer at Nightshade should be simple - check IDs, make sure no one causes trouble, send the drunks home at last call. But even a drunken idiot can't keep him from the temptation of the hot bartender, and when he has to come to Jaskier's rescue, Geralt realizes maybe the night wasn't ruined after all.A modern AU one shot where Geralt's the new bouncer where Jaskier tends bar. A hilarious old lady, a bar fight, and hot wall sex are involved (not together).
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Of Other Than Bardic Beginnings [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069358
Comments: 18
Kudos: 270





	Last Call

**Author's Note:**

> It's just shameless smut.

“Give the new guy a good run tonight, yeah?”

Jaskier looked up from behind the bar to see Red staring at him with a grin, her freckled cheeks dimpled. “Wha - wait, I thought we were working the shift together.”

She gave him a cheery wave before tightening her ponytail. “Nope! Gotta go meet my girl. You’ve tended bar on your own before, you’ll be fine. It’s Tuesday night, it’s only the drunks and a few tourists. And probably no tourists.” Her brown eyes flicked to the large picture window where fat, fluffy flakes of snow had been falling steadily for an hour. “Plus this guy’s been a bouncer before so just let him do his thing. Maybe let old Pantsy stay a tad too long and get Geralt to boot him.”

Jaskier sighed. “Great, yeah, leave me alone with the new beef.”

“Geralt. Looks like new-in-town beef, too. Just make sure he wears the shirt.” She winked at him, jingling her keys as she headed for the back door. “You’ll like this one, I promise. Very pretty. Gonna make that t-shirt look like it’s painted on.” And then she was gone, out into the snow and headed across town to go pick up Yen from her shop.

Jaskier resisted the urge to groan petulantly. Red was always trying to hook him up with this or that guy, some bar patron or a new dancer down the street. But after a few awkward dates and one truly disastrous booty call, his heart wasn’t in the scene anymore. He wanted to work his shifts, go home, and keep writing his novel.

Easy life, simple life, no strings attached.

“Got another one for me, hun?” Myrtle was on her stool, unlit cigarette in her mouth, feathered lipstick bleeding into the deep crevices around her lips. “I ain’t going anywhere, not with this fucking awful cold.”

Myrtle was one of a few resident barflies who always drank too much but tipped well. He’d need to make sure Geralt found her a cab around eleven so she could get home in this weather. “What’s your poison, love?” He asked, leaning over the bar to hold a lighter out for her.

Her rheumy eyes lit up in pleasure as she took the first hit from the cigarette. “Oh god, I needed that.”

He smiled fondly. “You forget you had it in your mouth again?”

“Nah. Was just wishing it was a joint.”

Jaskier sputtered a laugh. “Oh Myrtle, if only I was fifty years older.”

“Bah, I’ve had men thirty years younger than me. They don’t walk straight for about a day afterwards.” She wheezed a cough, grinned at him. “And you ain’t straight, dear. Got that look about you.”

Jaskier fought back a snicker, put a hand on his hip dramatically. “Oh, all us gays have a look, do we?”

“Damn right. Too pretty by half, which just makes the women sad. Then we all go home to finger ourselves thinking about who you’re boning.”

“Myrtle! Language.”

“Fuck off, dearie.”

They both chuckled before he reached under the bar for two bottles and held them out to her. “Got a new one, or we can do the ol’ tried and true.”

She motioned at the bottle in his left hand. “Gimmie the new shit, as long as it doesn’t taste like peaches. Disgusting, fruit shouldn’t be fuzzy.”

The back door - the employee entrance - buzzed and Jaskier looked up as a swirl of snow preceded the newcomer. Black hat, black coat, worn dark jeans, and thick biker boots with a heavy tread. They looked up and Jaskier had to brace himself on the bar. That was easily - ridiculously so - the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. He watched the man look around the little bar, eyes on the several empty tables, then land on Myrtle with slight curiosity.

Then those eyes caught him staring.

Slowly, the man reached up and pulled his hat off. His hair was long, loose, and pure white, like the snow falling outside. He ran a hand through it, scraping it back from his face and giving Jaskier a very good look at a stupidly attractive jawline and dimpled chin. But those eyes pulled him in like a current.

He wanted to faint just a little.

“Don’t swoon, honey,” Myrtle said with a cackle. “But I wouldn’t blame you. Hell, I’d let him bend me over.” She tapped the rim of her glass and swifter than any old lady had a right to be, slid a crumpled bill across the bar. “That’s for if you let him bend _you_ over. Consider it a down payment on the story the next time I come in.”

Jaskier gaped at her for a long moment, then snatched the bill off the bar and shoved it in his pocket, much to Myrtle’s delight. “You’re Geralt?” he asked, voice sounding far stronger than he felt at the moment.

The man nodded. “Yeah, was supposed to ask for Red.”

Jaskier started reaching under the bar as he said, “She went to fetch her girl, so it’s just you and me tonight.” His fingers itched to do something - anything - and happened to land on a decent bottle of whiskey, one that no one ordered from. He pulled two shot glasses out, poured, and held one out. “I’m Jaskier. Welcome to Nightshade.”

Geralt barely raised an eyebrow but came over to the bar and took the shot glass. His fingers were warm as they brushed Jaskier’s and he had to fight not to suck in a breath at the accidental touch. “Cheers,” Geralt said, hefting the glass slightly before downing.

“Cheers.” Jaskier followed suit.

Myrtle knocked back a mouthful of her drink before smiling at Geralt. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

* * *

A couple of hours later and Jaskier was in the weeds. The snow had stopped, the soccer match was over, and several groups of not yet drunk fans had stumbled in. Geralt maintained his post by the door, checking IDs and throwing glares at a few drunks who got a little too loud, but Jaskier didn’t have time to babysit.

“Drunks and tourists my ass,” he grumbled as he pulled two more beers and slid them down to a couple of regulars. Eskel and Lambert nodded their thanks, tossing him a very nice tip before heading over to their regular table. Geralt seemed to know them, from the way he greeted them at the door and the way they teased him about checking their IDs. 

The bar was full but most people had their drinks. Myrtle had actually toddled off home well before eleven, but not without giving Jaskier a kiss on the cheek and patting Geralt on the arm in a shockingly grandmotherly kind of way. Just another weird thing to add to the host of weird things for the night.

“Hey, buddy, can we get -“

“Yep, heading over. Just a moment.” Jaskier had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the overbearing, aging frat boys who had bellied up to his bar about a half an hour ago and thought they were somehow entitled to more of his time than everyone else. He put a Manhattan down in front of a pretty blond woman he vaguely recognized from the neighborhood. “You wanna start a tab?”

“Nah, I’m good.” She slid him a twenty. “Keep the rest.” Then she winked at him.

He gave her a closed-mouth smile and nodded politely. “Appreciate it. Sorry about the wait.”

Credit to her, she read his gentle brush-off correctly and didn’t get pissy about the bartender who wouldn’t flirt with her. “No worries. I just needed this before heading home.”

Jaskier left her to her drink and ambled over to the assholes, who all wanted different beers because of course they did. “Hey, give us a pitcher of that IPA and we’ll tip you well,” the one guy slurred. Jaskier gave him the once over - definitely aging frat boy, from the ridiculous buzz cut that absolutely did his face no favors to the too tight polo shirt that showed off a decent physique. But the grey in his beard wasn’t hiding anything but the beginning of heavy jowls. 

“We don’t do pitchers here,” he said amicably, “but I can get you the beer in a 20 ounce.”

The man leaned in and Jaskier caught the whiff of pharmacy grade cologne that turned sour in the face of body odor. “Nah, come on, I know you got pitchers. Just pour one for us and we’ll pay.”

Jaskier shrugged, trying to not get riled by this asshole who couldn’t fucking listen. “Sorry, no can do. You want the 20?”

The man slammed his hand on the counter, expression changing so fast Jaskier barely registered it. “I said I want the pitcher, you fucking piece of shit. You’re just a fucking bartender, what the fuck do you know -“

Geralt was suddenly there, looming large behind the loudmouth asshole and his buddies. “Time to go.”

“Naw, we’re not going -“ The man turned around and had to look up. Jaskier swore he heard the man’s throat click as he swallowed hard. “Just wanted a pitcher of beer, no trouble.”

“Funny.” Geralt leaned in, catching Jaskier’s gaze just for a moment. “I could have sworn I heard your bartender tell you they don’t do pitchers here. Which means you were being an asshole.”

He became very aware that the entire bar was watching this exchange. Nightshade was a low-key kind of place, more watering hole than anything. It had its regulars, its rotators, and its tourists, and Red did a good job slinging the drinks people wanted and bringing in sideshow stuff like karaoke night. It kept a bouncer on hand for the evenings and two for the weekends. But the bouncers were mainly there to keep everyone from being stupid and to check IDs.

In his three years working there, he’d only ever seen one confrontation and it ended in a call to the police. Things didn’t get tense around Nightshade, and Red liked keeping it that way. But she also liked Jaskier a lot, so it was a point for Geralt coming to his defense so quickly. He made a mental note to tell Red just that once she got wind of what went down.

The aging frat boy puffed up his chest and got closer to Geralt. The woman with the Manhattan muttered something about idiots and beer as Jaskier edged to the side of the bar where the panic button was. He didn’t really think this would come to blows, but stranger things had happened.

“I’m not the asshole,” the man spat, spittle flying from his lips. “Your little poncy bartender here won’t give me what I want! I’m the customer!”

“I think you’re drunk, and you should be on your way.” Somehow the more amped the idiot asshole got, the calmer Geralt sounded. It was….

Jaskier sucked in a breath. It was really hot. Watching Geralt be so collected in the face of an idiot, watching him not back down but not threaten the guy. It was insanely hot. And definitely didn’t have anything to do with how Geralt’s t-shirt, already tight enough, tightened more across his chest as he crossed his arms and said, “Time to go. You and your friends. You can try again when you’re not being an ass.”

The drunk idiot grinned, held up his hands, and said, “Fine, whatever,” just moments before he swung at Geralt’s jaw.

* * *

This drunk idiot could have only telegraphed his punch more if he’d yelled out, “Oy, your momma!” before swinging at Geralt. He dodged to the left, then brought up his forearm to block the next, far more sloppy punch as the drunk yelled, enraged. He caught sight of Jaskier frozen behind the bar, hand inching toward what was surely the panic button.

Geralt gave him the briefest shake of his head, Jaskier’s eyes widening in response, and then he was moving again, ducking under another blow. “Getting tired yet?”

“Fuck you!” The drunk roared, bull-rushing Geralt with clear intent. Geralt let him advance, moving backwards swiftly, trying to remember the layout of the room. It would go one of two ways - the idiot would bounce off the wall and knock himself out, or Geralt would catch himself on a table and have to punch the guy to get him to back down.

He stepped back, pushing a chair out of his way, and at the last minute slid to the right. The idiot’s momentum, plus his inebriation, didn’t let him stop in time and he crashed headlong into the brick wall.

Geralt looked down, shook his head, and said to Jaskier, “Go ahead and hit it. Moron needs an ambulance.” He peered around the bar for the drunk’s friends, who had scattered the moment their buddy started throwing punches at a man far taller and broader than any of them. Probably smart.

The man on the ground moaned but didn’t rise, and Geralt stepped over him. He motioned to the cameras in the corners. Jaskier said, “Yeah, the cops can pull it. Don’t worry, I’ve got witnesses.”

And then he handed Geralt another shot while hefting his own. “On the house,” he yelled, throwing his own back before pouring out several for those still at the bar.

Geralt sensed them before he saw them, but Eskel and Lambert were suddenly behind him, edging closer to the now empty right side of the bar. “Damn you’re still quick, Wolf,” Eskel said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Though that guy was trashed.”

“Should have just hit him, you would have had call to,” Lambert replied, taking the stool to Geralt’s left.

“Figured it would be easier if he concussed himself,” Geralt said quietly, keeping an eye on the bar and the bartender. The man looked shaken up, but his hands were steady as he poured a round of shots. “Didn’t want to punch anyone on my first night on the job.”

“Nah, just let a drunk run himself into a wall.” Lambert looked back at the man on the ground. “Pretty sure I’ve seen that guy before. I hate guys like that.”

“Me too.” Geralt saw Jaskier waving at him, so he gave Eskel and Lambert friendly slaps on the back and went behind the bar. He stood close to Jaskier, who was turned around to process a tab. “Need something?”

Jaskier huffed, swiped the credit card through the machine. “One, I wanted to thank you for handling that guy. Two, cops will be here any minute, so we’ll need to get everyone out. I already let Red know what happened and she said shut it down.” He gave Geralt a pointed look. “No last call. Just boot people outside. Most of them will stick around to give statements.”

Geralt nodded. “Got it.” Now he saw the fine tremor in Jaskier’s hands as he moved bills around and collected the credit cards. “You okay?”

Jaskier glanced in the mirror behind the bar and caught Geralt’s gaze, holding it as he said, “I hate violence and that...moron just wouldn’t let it go. Thank you for not punching him out, even though I know that would have been easier for you.” He quirked a small smile at Geralt. “Sorry your first night was so shitty.”

He shrugged, but he held Jaskier’s gaze. Wanted the other man to feel it. Jaskier was _exactly_ the kind of guy he liked - tall, quick hands, pretty eyes, dark hair. The black jeans he wore were perfectly molded to his ass, which Geralt had fought not to stare at all night as Jaskier sauntered back and forth behind the bar. His shirt sleeves were rolled up past the elbow, giving Geralt a more than satisfying look at strong forearms covered in dark hair. Those quick hands would probably make short work of buttons and zippers, which was insanely attractive.

But Jaskier also had a really nice voice, lilting and soft, but clearly powerful enough to draw everyone’s attention. That voice did something funny to his gut, making it flip over and leaving him twisting with its force.

It was very stupid to be instantly attracted to someone at his new workplace and yet, here he was, edging closer to the very handsome bartender and wondering what he looked like naked.

* * *

As Geralt booted the drinkers from their stools, Jaskier handled the cops. It was a decently quick affair, since there were multiple witness statements and camera footage all proving that the drunk idiot had started the confrontation and Geralt had ended it as peacefully as possible.

Drunk idiot definitely had a concussion and would probably do something stupid once he woke up, but Red’s lawyer was a bulldog and nothing got past her. Jaskier wasn’t worried for himself or for Red, but he did catch Geralt’s frown as he talked to the officers. The guy looked really uncomfortable, even unhappy about the whole state of affairs. He couldn’t blame him - this shit was never fun. It ruined the whole night and threw off their tips, but Red would make it up to them. She was good like that.

Once everyone had gone, Jaskier leaned on the bar and sighed. It was still earlier than the usual two A.M. last call, but not by much. He was thrumming with adrenaline and deeply considering the bottle of whiskey under the bar when he heard Geralt say, “You got plans?”

Jaskier’s head whipped up and he stared hard at the bouncer, who was standing mere feet away on the other side of the bar. “I uh….no, actually,” was what he found himself saying, unable to muster up anything important to do.

The look Geralt was giving him made Jaskier’s blood heat. Something in those deep amber eyes sent a bolt of lust through his gut and then he was gripping the edge of the bar. “I got a buddy who runs a little noodle shop not far from here.” Geralt grinned at him, hitting Jaskier with the full force of that smile and those dimples. “Thought you might want to partake.”

Oh, he wanted to partake all right. More like take all the clothes off that body that looked good enough to eat. Jaskier gave himself a little shake and then said, “Yeah, actually, that sounds about perfect. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

They shut everything down and gathered their belongings, preparing to go out in the cold. “I walked,” Geralt said as he pulled his hat on. “But if you want to drive -“

Jaskier pointed to the street corner. “My building’s just up there so I walked, too. I’m good. The cold’s not terrible.” He gave Geralt a grin. “As long as this place isn’t on the other side of the river, I’m good.”

“Nah, just up the block. He’s usually open late anyways but I texted him and he’s got something set aside for us.” Geralt hit him with that gaze again but this time it swept over Jaskier’s body; he felt it like a touch. “Figured I owed you for helping keep people calm tonight. That’s hard to do.”

Jaskier shrugged. “I didn’t really do anything other than watch you dodge a guy trying to hit you. You moved so fast, it’s impressive.”

Of all things Jaskier expected, it certainly wasn’t to see Geralt flush. “Thanks, I uh….used to fight. MMA stuff. Amateur mostly but I did a few big ring fights. So ducking a drunk’s punches isn’t too hard.”

Jaskier whistled low and soft. This guy was no joke. And him being a former fighter was...yep, check that off the list of “Things Jaskier Pankratz finds insanely hot but has no explanation for other than sheer shallowness”.

They talked as they went, Geralt asking about the bar and Red and what Jaskier did in his off hours. When he talked passionately about the book he was writing, Geralt brightened. “Yeah? I always thought that might be nice to try. My apartment’s full of books but I never found the time to actually sit down and write something.” The smile he gave Jaskier hit him right in the heart. And the groin. “I might need some tips.”

Jaskier ducked his head but was grinning all the same.

* * *

Full on noodles, veggies, and green tea, Jaskier was tugging his coat back on while Geralt said goodbye to his friend. Vesemir made a mean pho and Jaskier now had a favorite new place for takeout after work. The adrenaline of the night had worn off but Jaskier was used to being up for several hours after work, usually passing out around sunrise and sleeping through early afternoon.

What hadn’t worn off was Jaskier’s desire. Watching Geralt be casual and friendly, after he’d been so fierce and protective earlier just made everything hotter. Or maybe he was really hard up and just wanted to touch and kiss someone as attractive as Geralt.

Fine, he was horny as fuck and wanted someone to pin him to a wall.

Before he had time to think on his motivations and his wildly out of control libido, Geralt reappeared from the kitchen and handed Jaskier a bag. “Here. A reward for helping me tonight.”

Jaskier took the bag and looked inside. There were several containers of broth and glass noodles, along with boxes of cut veggies. “Shit, I should stand by and watch you not fight a guy more often.”

“Get the fuck out of here!” came a voice from the kitchen. “Go home!”

Snickering, Geralt held the door open for Jaskier and they both went back out into the cold. Once they were past the shop, Jaskier said, “Hey, thanks for that. I always like finding new places to eat and that was fucking incredible.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Geralt shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping pace with Jaskier. Silence filled the space between them for a few more streets, and soon Jaskier’s building came into view. “You there?”

“Just ahead, yeah.”

“Can I walk you there?”

There it was. The invitation Jaskier hoped would come. He dialed up the charm, gave Geralt a smoldering look, and said in quiet voice, “I’ll let you do more than that.”

Those amber eyes flashed and Jaskier saw the storm gathering at their edges. Geralt’s lips parted slightly before gracing Jaskier with a knowing smirk. They rounded the corner and Jaskier realized Geralt was walking closer to him, their hands almost brushing. “I bet you switch, don’t you?” he said in that rumbling baritone, the voice hitting Jaskier square in the chest. “Built like you are, all lithe and strong. Shit, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

Jaskier sucked in a breath at the tone and the words Geralt was damn near whispering in his ear. That bolt of lust from earlier was turning into a full fledged storm, lighting up his entire body. “Oh, you think you know, huh? Just from one night working together.”

Geralt ran a hand down his arm, the touch light through his coat. “I know people pretty well. I watched you run that bar like a pro, all by yourself, flying around and keeping track of everything and everyone. It’s impressive. Means you have good attention to detail and you’re responsive.” 

Now they were in the parking lot of Jaskier’s building, nearing the entrance. Jaskier thought for a moment Geralt would shove him up against a car and kiss him, but when it didn’t happen he growled, “So you’re going to tease me all night with talk about how good I am at slinging drinks?”

Geralt smiled at him. “Competence is hot. Moving with confidence is also hot. I sat there for hours and checked IDs while you did the hard work and you never once asked for help. Even when you were in the weeds you handled it with grace.” He paused as Jaskier punched in his door code and practically ran to the elevator, earning him a chuckle. “Might also help that you’re the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” Geralt said as he crowded Jaskier into the elevator.

“Could say the same for you,” Jaskier replied, pulling Geralt close with a hand curled in his coat. “We doing this?”

“Fuck yes.” Geralt practically purred the words before grabbing Jaskier by the chin.

 _He kisses like a god_. That was the only thing Jaskier could think as Geralt expertly molded their lips together. And then it was filthy - all tongues and slick lips and one of them making little growling noises. The bag in Jaskier’s hand smacked into the elevator wall, jolting him back to reality.

The elevator dinged and he tugged Geralt forward with a wide grin. His door was unfortunately all the way at the end of the long hall and he wanted to break into a sprint, but a hand on his ass stopped him. “You like that, don’t you?” Geralt’s voice was in his ear as they stood in the middle of the corridor. “Out in the open for anyone to see?”

Jaskier bit back a whimper and pressed into the hard, hot body behind him. “They encourage public sex in bouncer school?” he teased, snaking his free hand down Geralt’s thigh. It tensed under his touch and he chuckled. “As...entertaining as that suggestion is, we should go before the neighbors call the cops.”

* * *

Geralt waited until Jaskier had dumped his winter gear and put the food away in his fridge before pushing him into the wall. It had been torture to wait, to watch the man walk in front of him, the sway in those hips cocky and teasing at the same time. Jaskier landed with an _oof_ but was instantly grabbing for him, grin wide and gorgeous. “Fuck, Geralt.”

“You’re a dirty thing,” he purred, caging Jaskier between his body and the wall. He had to touch him. Needed to. Geralt wanted to rip his shirt off and lick up his chest, but settled for tugging his hem out of those tight jeans and exploring warm skin with his fingertips while he mouthed at the hinge of Jaskier’s jaw. Jaskier bucked into the touch, head thrown back, hands immediately in his hair and tugging him into another sloppy kiss. 

He let Jaskier steer them through the apartment, watching with amusement as the other man kicked open the bedroom door with his heel and tugged him forward toward the large, low bed. A quick look around told him Jaskier was a neat freak - everything was in its place, no dust on the surfaces, no clothes on the floor, bed perfectly made. “Seems a shame to muss your sheets,” he growled, head already spinning at the thought of taking Jaskier up against the wall. His back would be aching in the morning but it would be so fucking worth it.

The implication of his words hit Jaskier exactly the way he’d hoped. The other man’s steel blue eyes went wide, his breathing hitched, and then he was yanking on Geralt’s shirt. “Off, get it off,” he said frantically, leaving Geralt to untangle himself from his sleeves while he tore open his own shirt.

Chuckling, Geralt tossed his shirt aside and toed off his boots but as Jaskier got his shirt off, he couldn’t resist any longer. With a wicked grin, Geralt dropped to his knees to mouth at Jaskier’s stomach. The muscles immediately clenched in response and Jaskier moaned, the sound rattling through Geralt’s body like a chaser - warm and right and tingling all the way down. He held Jaskier by the hips and used his tongue and lips to carve trails across that temptation of a body.

He felt Jaskier slump against the wall, letting it take his weight while he carded his fingers through Geralt’s hair. When he looked up, Jaskier was staring at him with hooded, dark eyes, those delectable lips parted as he panted. “Someone’s excited,” he teased, moving lower and lower still until he was stopped by denim.

“Ungh, _Geralt_.” Jaskier’s hips thrust forward and Geralt obliged, running a palm over the hard line of Jaskier’s cock. 

“Hmmm, all night so confident, so collected. And then I get you alone and you turn into a needy, greedy little thing,” he cooed, rubbing harder. “Tell me what you need.”

Jaskier whimpered again and Geralt realized he liked that broken sound spilling out from slick, swollen lips. “Yes, please. Your mouth.”

Geralt drew the zipper down slowly, watching every little twitch, every little gasp. “Where?”

“Bastard,” Jaskier bit out, letting Geralt see his seams unraveling through the flush on his face and his heaving chest. “My cock. Please.”

Geralt tugged those tight jeans and Jaskier’s underwear down in one yank and as they pooled around finely boned ankles, he ran his hands up Jaskier’s thighs. “You’ll beg for more before we’re done,” he warned, voice thick with arousal. “I promise.”

It was one of the most perfect cocks he’d ever seen. More long than thick, jutting up from a thatch of dark hair, balls already heavy. He slid his hand down to test their weight and Jaskier’s thighs parted automatically. He couldn’t wait any longer. Geralt leaned in and licked up the underside, following the ridge of the thick vein there. Jaskier damn near shouted as he thrust forward, but his hands in Geralt’s hair were still gentle. “Oh god,” he moaned, rocking forward as Geralt drew back to suckle the head.

“God, you’re pretty,” Geralt purred, using his hand to stroke Jaskier, smearing his saliva and the bit of precome that had pearled at the tip. “Wanted you from the moment I saw you tonight.”

Jaskier gave a strangled little groan and blinked dark eyes at him. “Your mouth,” he stuttered, watching with fascination and lust as Geralt licked him. Teasing. Sucking. Stopping every now and then to fondle his thighs and balls before stroking Jaskier with his fist and licking the crown.

A fine tremble worked its way through Jaskier’s body and now he was moaning little punched-out sounds peppered with, “Oh god, yes, _yes_ ,” over and over again. His face, both handsome and pretty in the low light, was twisted into an expression of intense pleasure but he was watching Geralt closely, like he couldn’t look away.

Geralt slowed down to nuzzle at thighs covered in dark hair, pulling in the musky, warm scent of the man quivering beneath him. “You want more, or….” He wanted Jaskier to decide, to steer this encounter. There was little Geralt enjoyed more than taking someone apart slowly, watching them shake from root to rafters, to practically tremble with desire before they crumpled, begging, pleading. 

It took real vulnerability to let someone lick and suck you until you begged to be fucked, and those were always the best encounters in his mind. Not that he’d had a lot recently, or even semi-recently. So he was maybe feeling indulgent as he pulled Jaskier’s hand from his hair and sucked the index finger into his mouth. Jaskier gasped, eyes flying open wide and bright, and Geralt hummed in pleasure at the reaction. “Need you, please,” he begged, panting and writhing, a flush blossoming on his chest and neck.

Geralt drew up, still sucking on that finger, scraping his teeth down it gently. As he leaned in he only let go so he could pull Jaskier into a hungry kiss. He wanted the other man to taste himself on his tongue.

And just as the kiss turned dirty, Jaskier spun, pressing his chest into the wall, kicking away the pants tangled around his ankles, and pushed his ass flush with Geralt’s groin. “Please,” he begged, fingers clawing into the wall, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

He’d never had anyone present themselves so readily before. Geralt let himself have a moment to look over the long, sinewy line of Jaskier’s back, his muscles bunching with strain, with need. But that ass…. 

“Goddammit,” he growled, hands snapping out to grab Jaskier’s hips. “Fuck you’re pretty. _Fuck_.” He pulled Jaskier tight to him, let him feel his body heat and his strength. Let him feel his clothed cock against the cleft of that pert, round ass. “This want you want? Up against the wall?”

Jaskier nodded, head nearly colliding with Geralt’s nose. “Fuck me,” he commanded, tone brooking no argument. And Geralt wasn’t going to bicker with a man that desperate, that needy. Not one grabbing at him like his life depended on a good, hard fucking.

He didn’t even pull away to peel out of his jeans, just shoved them down, kicking them away with his foot much like Jaskier had moments ago. Jaskier pointed at the nightstand and Geralt went to root around in the drawer, finding lube and a condom fairly quickly. He slicked two fingers, almost giddy when Jaskier gave a tiny whine at the sound of the lid being popped open.

Geralt was back behind him, not wanting to wait any longer. He hooked an arm around Jaskier’s waist, pleased at how pliant he was under his hands. Jaskier was shaking with need at this point, hard cock jutting out, the head leaking and almost purple. “Got any blood left anywhere else?” he teased, voice in Jaskier’s ear as he slid slick fingertips down the crack of his ass.

Jaskier gave a dizzying shake of his head. “Absolutely not,” he said, half laughing. “Oh, god, Geralt. You’re going to destroy me.”

“If that’s what you want,” he shot back, fingers moving deeper. The first touch against Jaskier’s hole had the man whining high in the back of his throat, thrusting back erratically, hips pumping. Geralt eased his finger in, breath catching at the way Jaskier moaned wordlessly. 

Was he sweating? It felt like he was sweating under the intensity of everything happening between them, but he also felt cold, shaky. None of it bad, all of it very, _very good_ , but this was….

Different. Somehow it was more intense, which made it easily the hottest sex Geralt had ever had. And they weren’t even fucking yet.

Head spinning, he pressed his finger in slowly, feeling the muscle give just as Jaskier warbled once more, then pressed his forehead into his stacked arms and panted in rhythm with Geralt’s slow thrusts. Once his finger was slipping in and out easily, Geralt added a second, making Jaskier wail at the stretch. He watched that beautiful body take his fingers, let his other hand wander over hair and muscle and soft, pale skin that glistened with sweat. Jaskier was holding up his end, fucking himself on Geralt’s fingers and scrabbling at the wall, every other breath a ragged sob of desire.

The temptation of a bead of sweat rolling down Jaskier’s back was too much. He bent forward and licked up Jaskier’s spine. The other man froze, and then let out a great, shuddering breath, giving Geralt a chance to rip the condom packet open with his teeth. “Kiss me,” he said over his shoulder. “I need it. I need your mouth -”

He surged forward, pressing into Jaskier, letting them both fall against the wall as they rutted against each other, their mouths meeting in a messy kiss. “Gotta get this on,” he panted. Jaskier nodded, arching away only a little and Geralt was left fumbling with the condom until he managed to get it rolled down. “Now we’re good,” he said softly, letting Jaskier take some of his weight against his back.

Jaskier arched his back more, his spine a beautiful curve under Geralt’s hands. “Please,” he said one more time, eyes beseeching in the dark. One arm back around Jaskier’s waist, Geralt used his free hand to guide himself into that slick, tight hole.

“Fucking fuck,” Geralt swore, his voice no more than a heavy rasp. Jaskier’s body was perfection, hot and tight and greedily sucking him in. Pulling him deeper with every shallow thrust. He bottomed out slowly, hips flush with Jaskier’s ass, listening to every stuttering breath Jaskier let out. “Oh you are perfect. So fucking perfect. Jaskier.”

The sound Jaskier made was some whine-moan hybrid that rattled Geralt’s cage. Jaskier was reaching back, slick fingers skating over Geralt’s hip as he tried to tug him forward. Closer. Deeper. “I need it,” he repeated, spreading his legs wide, bending even more at the waist.

“Then you can have it.” God, was he ever going to find another partner like this? One so willing to take him, to let him fuck him against a wall? One so needy, so ready for him that it collapsed every barrier, every wall he’d ever built to keep others at arm’s length? They weren’t thoughts for now, not when Jaskier was so perfect around his cock. But he wondered. And it made him want Jaskier even more.

“Hold on,” he growled, rolling his hips forward, giving Jaskier a taste of that strength he wanted to feel so badly. Jaskier nodded quickly, shoring up his posture so Geralt could lean over him and press his hands on top of Jaskier’s. He started to fuck into him, hips smacking into his ass; he could already feel the build of his orgasm, something shimmering around the edges but molten in the middle. It spiraled low and tight in his gut and drove him forward more, pushing harder, faster, deeper into Jaskier’s body.

Jaskier was moaning, growling, pleading with every thrust, chasing Geralt’s rhythm and fucking back. Giving as good as he got, even as sweat beaded on their skin. Jaskier’s whines turned into little grunts, the sound still high in his throat but more frantic now as Geralt hit his prostate with ruthless thrusts. “Not going to last,” he panted out, clenching around Geralt’s cock.

“So don’t.” Geralt was close too and if he could think clearly, he would have been amazed at how quickly he’d been drug to the edge of pleasure, one foot hanging off the cliff as he readied himself to let go.

Jaskier gave a thin wail and then he clenched down like a vise, shuddering under the force of his climax. Geralt was quickly losing control of his own thrusts, chasing after his pleasure with single-minded intensity. But the sight of Jaskier coming in long, thick bursts, feeling him tremble apart beneath his hands pushed him over the edge. His orgasm rocketed through him, burning white hot through every nerve, every fiber of his being, forcing his head back as he moaned Jaskier’s name, pulling him tight against his chest.

His senses came back to him slowly, even as he was breathing like a bellows and shaking all over. Jaskier was huffing an incredulous laugh into Geralt’s arm, his skin hot to the touch. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I’m done. Wrecked. Fuck, Geralt. _Fuck_.”

“Yeah, same.” Geralt pressed his temple into Jaskier’s back. He couldn’t feel his hands or most of his legs, but the soft fuzziness of his head reminded him of doing too many shots too quickly, leaving only languid warmth behind. “I think we’re going to have to muss up your bed after all. I can’t feel my legs.”

“Oh, we’re going to mess it up,” Jaskier said, wincing only slightly as Geralt pulled away. “I need to lie down, and then we’re going to eat.” His eyes glinted wickedly. “And then we’re going again.”

* * *

Red whistled at them as they came in together for the next closing shift, which drew Myrtle’s gaze. The old woman shuffled in her handbag and handed Red a twenty, making the younger woman cackle in glee.

“Well, shit,” Geralt said, trying not to blush at the two women laughing at them.

Jaskier shrugged and started to walk back behind the bar, but turned, grabbed Geralt by the collar, and tugged him down into a kiss. When they broke apart, Red’s eyebrows were near her hairline but she was grinning like mad. “Whoo baby, love is in the air,” she said, pulling up some shot glasses with a wink. “Let’s start this night off right, shall we?”


End file.
